* * *

"Toff, this is Karzac. He is a healer and one of the Queen's Inner Circle mates." Toff blinked up at his foster-father, who stood beside another man. The man had light-brown hair, green-gold eyes and an easy smile. He was taller than Corent, too, Toff noticed.

"Young one, I am only here to make sure you recover fully," Karzac sat on the side of the bed and lifted Toff's wrist in his fingers. He also placed fingers on Toff's chest, as if he were listening through them for Toff's heartbeat instead of putting an ear against Toff's chest. Toff had never been sick before, although some of the others—the humanoids—sometimes were ill. The Green Fae had healers, but they'd brought someone else in after Toff was attacked.

"What do you remember of your attack, young one?" Karzac the healer asked after checking Toff over carefully. He seemed satisfied with his findings as far as health was concerned.

"I was looking for Lily, Father Willow's best cow," Toff blinked at Karzac as he dredged up the painful memory. "Father Willow sent me toward a stand of trees, when we didn't find her in the pasture." Toff lowered his eyes and picked at the quilt that covered him. "I heard rustling somewhere inside the edge of the forest, so I went to check on that. I thought Lily might have gone in there, thinking it to be warmer there since it frosted overnight." Toff shuddered.

He hadn't expected the two larger boys to jump him from overhead—they'd been waiting for him to pass beneath the trees. They'd dropped on his shoulders, knocking him to the ground. Then, Sark held him while Haldis punched and hit. Toff only managed to scream twice before he was knocked unconscious. Toff explained that to Karzac as best he could.

While he told that particular part of his tale, he gripped the handmade quilt that covered him tightly in his hands. The memories were disturbing. He'd been punched and knocked about before, but never like this. The other attacks hadn't been planned. This one had been carefully thought out.

"Those two are sitting in the Queen's dungeon, although their parents are having fits," Karzac patted one of Toff's hands while a grim expression marred his features. "Did anything precipitate this attack? I ask that you not lie—I will know if you do."

"I don't know what I did." Toff lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead. "They acted as they always did when I saw them last. Nothing was different that I could tell."

"Then we will attempt to find an explanation for this, young one," Karzac stood and stretched. "If you have need, you can always get a message to the Queen. She will respond. Send it through your foster-father, here. He will bring it to our attention." Karzac nodded to Corent who'd stood by, listening to the exchange with little expression on his face.

"What will happen to Sark and Haldis?" Toff asked before Karzac left his tiny bedroom.

"The Queen and the Council will pass judgment on them sometime soon. I cannot say exactly when that might be—they are very busy these days." Karzac walked through Toff's doorway and disappeared from view.

"Father, what do you think will happen?" Toff lifted his eyes to Corent.

"I do not know," Corent sighed and sat in the spot previously occupied by the healer. "While we would merely banish them from our village and place them outside our boundary which they cannot cross, this world belongs to the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis and her justice is more severe at times. Do not worry yourself over this, son. They will not touch you again."

Toff didn't tell Corent what he'd been thinking—that Gren had likely ordered Sark and Haldis to do what they did. While they willingly did Gren's bidding on any occasion, they wouldn't have done this except at his direction. With their arrests, Toff had cost Gren his small army. Gren would certainly find a way to retaliate. "When can I get up, father?" Toff asked instead.

"Probably tomorrow—the healer had help from a Larentii when you were attacked three days ago. They are mighty healers, child." Corent didn't add that without the Larentii's help, Toff would have died after being beaten so badly.

"Larentii?" Toff hadn't heard that word before.

"A race of blue giants, son. They feed on sunlight and are the most powerful of the light races. There are two of them in the Queen's Inner Circle."

"Oh." He realized that he hadn't dreamed those large, blue hands after all. "How many are in the Queen's Inner Circle, father?" Toff was naturally curious, and there was no one to ask about the Queen and her capital city.

"Seventeen, I think," Corent brushed Toff's hair off his forehead. "Your mother has been cooking. Are you hungry?"

* * *

"Here, Tory." Rylend Morphis handed the polish to his brother, Torevik Rath. Whenever Uncle Drake and Uncle Drew came to inspect their practice blades, they expected them to be treated as if they were the finest blades made by Grey House. Tory and Ry had to clean, sharpen and polish before presenting the weapons to their uncles for inspection.

"Do you think Mom will ever let us get tattoos?" Fourteen-year-old Ry looked over at his brother. Tory was younger than Ry—by six days. Both boys were envious of their uncles' extensive tattoos. Uncle Drake and Uncle Drew had tattoos on their chests, backs and arms. Drake had black dragons tattooed everywhere, Drew had silver dragons. They were twins and half Falchani, although they looked to be all Falchani. Falchani men wore their black hair in long braids down their backs and the more experienced they were in battle, the more extensive the tattoos. Drake and Drew had full sets, in addition to the claw crown tattooed at the base of their left thumbs.

"You know Mom won't agree to it, even if our dads will," Tory grumped. They'd admired their uncle's tattoos for a very long time.

Ry and Tory worked inside a small room within the palace guards' barracks, finishing their chores for the day before going to afternoon lessons at the palace. The barracks were clean and serviceable, but with few comforts provided. Ry and Tory seldom saw the inside of the lengthy bunk area where the guards actually slept.

The guards had small rooms there while they worked at the palace, with homes elsewhere when they were off duty. Uncle Gavin and Uncle Tony were in charge of the Palace Guard; Uncle Drake and Uncle Drew had command of the army. Uncle Gavin always made sure that the palace guards had plenty of time off and didn't get burned out on their job. Ry and Tory had helped Uncle Tony guard the palace at night upon occasion. They knew how wearing it could be.

"The tourists are coming through to see the palace," Ry remarked casually as he wiped his practice blade carefully with a soft cloth. Tory's blade was already gleaming in the light cast by the fluorescent globes overhead. Power was carried through buried lines from the light half of the planet to keep the capital city of Lissia lit in the constant twilight. Tourists visiting nearby Casino City had need of the artificial lighting. Ry and Tory had learned to deal with the planet's unusual rotation, which kept Lissia in semi-darkness.

"Do you think we would be missed from class for a few minutes if I skipped us to the Green Fae village?" A slow grin spread across Tory's face. Tory was tall already—more than six feet—and looked older than his fourteen years. Ry was around five and a half feet tall and envied his brother's height at times.

"You'll have to skip us; if I use any ability, I'll get knocked back at the boundary. Dad limited my power on that sort of thing." Ry sometimes hated the limits his father placed on him. Tory, whose father was Gardevik Rath of the race of High Demons, had inherited his father's ability to deflect power. Garde and Ry's father, Erland, had experimented with the ability and determined it was only malicious spells or power meant to harm that didn't have any effect on High Demons. Neutral or helpful spells seemed to work just fine. That's how Tory could be healed or transported by others, but Ry couldn't place a mischievous spell on Tory, even if he wanted to.

"I'm just worried we'll get caught," Tory pointed out.

"We didn't get caught when we went to see those two in the dungeon." Ry nudged his brother as he stood to place his practice blade on the rack.

"But if we get caught, we'll end up washing dishes at Niff's or helping Cheedas in the kitchen or polishing the floor." Tory hated polishing the marble floors of the palace; there were miles of them and Web, the comesula in charge of palace housekeeping, was a hard taskmaster.

"Yeah. You think Web truly hates us?"

"He made us redo that stretch in the vestibule last time," Tory grumbled.

"He hates us," Ry heaved a self-pitying sigh. He ran fingers through his black hair for effect, too, but his dark eyes were laughing.

"We know those two in the dungeon are lying," Tory was still thinking about this.

"You got that from your Uncle Jayd," Ry nodded. "Who knew that you'd be a guli? When are you planning to tell your dad?"

"I don't know. Right now, it's more useful when nobody knows or suspects." Tory stood and stretched before hanging his practice blade beside Ry's.

"Yeah. Might come in handy sometime, if nobody else knows."

"Is Sissy coming for dinner?"

"If Uncle Shadow comes, he'll bring her."

"Mom's still mad, and that was six years ago."

"I don’t think I'd want to be hauled off to Grey House to be trained at six." Tory still remembered the argument between his mother, Uncle Shadow and Uncle Shadow's father and grandfather. Only their mother had enough courage to argue with those three at the same time. It ended up not making any difference—six was the age when all Grey House Wizards went through the rite and started training.

Uncle Shadow had insisted that Sissy would have one parent around her at all times. Their mother had then pointed out (rather loudly) that the parent in question was going to be Uncle Shadow most of the time. Uncle Shadow didn't have an argument for that. Sissy and Mom had both cried and Uncle Shadow had his hands full for a while trying to calm the women in his life.